A love letter to Edward Scissorhands

April 1, 2014 at 11:49 am (I Propose to Fictional Characters) (, , )

Dear Edward Scissorhands,

Let’s get married. I would make a wonderful Mrs. Scissorhands for a multitude of reasons.

Most of them are "You have Johnny Depp's face."

Most of them are “You have Johnny Depp’s face.”

Firstly, I think your facial scars are cool. They make you look kind of, you know, dangerous. Like the way your scissorhands make you look kind of dangerous. Dangerous!

Er, maybe that's too much danger.

Er, maybe that’s too much danger.

Secondly, I hate doing yardwork and you seem to enjoy trimming hedges and the like, so you could do the yardwork and I could not, and we could be cute together when the neighbors come over for a barbecue.

Sometimes we'd do hamburgers, Edward.

Sometimes we’d do hamburgers, Edward.

Thirdly, I would never make you cut my hair. Unless you wanted to. But don’t do anything crazy with it, because I really hate styling my hair.

Actually, yeah. Please never cut my hair, ever.

Actually, yeah. Please never cut my hair, ever.

Fourthly, I have never dated the rich, popular jock, so I would never ask you to break into his house, thus setting off a chain of events that will end in tragedy.

Fifthly, even if I did set off a chain of events that end in tragedy, I would do it with more panache than Winona Ryder, because I seriously could never understand her popularity, she’s pretty terrible.

Partly I never liked her because of my old boyfriend's obsession with her, but partly I've never liked her because she's just a mediocre actress.

Partly I never liked her because of my old boyfriend’s obsession with her, but partly I’ve never liked her because she’s just a mediocre actress.

Sixthly, I think the last name Scissorhands really suits me, and if you won’t marry me, perhaps I should consider getting my name legally changed. Except I can’t remember how to make a cursive capital S, so maybe that’s a bad idea.

Oh, there it is.

Oh, there it is.

But still, we should get married.

But, uh, let's not have any kids, all right?

But, uh, let’s not have any kids, all right?

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